


Harry Potter and Lily's Contingency plans

by FacelessSage



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, F/M, Neutral Harry, Romance, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 07:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FacelessSage/pseuds/FacelessSage
Summary: Summary- Harry Potter knew more better than to rely on others. So why did he trust Hogwart's faculty as easily as he did? Harry Potter knew better than anyone to keep his head down and avoid attention. So why did he suddenly have no problems with the attention that was focussed on him while in the magical school? Harry Potter knew better than to charge ahead recklessly. So why did he suddenly feel that it was his job to save the day every time something came up?





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Disclaimer** \- This is not my sandbox but I am going to play in it at least once. The reason for that is very simple, 'The damned muse won't go away.'

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**HpLcp**

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**Chapter 1**

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Pivet drive No. 4,

Little Whinging, Surrey.

August 3rd ,1992.

_"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."_

Headmaster Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind once again as Harry laid on his cot and stared outside. Dudley's second bedroom, or Harry's room, had another addition to its sparse furniture- bars on the window and a cat-flap on the door.

Harry wondered why his headmaster would tell a twelve-year old that death was an adventure. At first, Harry assumed that the old man was going senile. It was not his fault for thinking that, many students were of the opinion that the headmaster had a few screws lose.

But then he discarded that idea. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not just a headmaster. He was also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwamp of the International Confederation of Wizards. Both of those jobs involved politics.

While Harry didn't know much about the things those jobs entailed, he at least understood that they both involved careful use of words. Only a few days ago, he had heard his Uncle complaining about the way the media twisted some politician's words resulting in a lot of slander for him.

And that brought him to the dilemma he was facing. _Why did Albus Dumbledore tell a twelve-year old boy that death should be accepted when it came?_ At the end of his first year, Harry Potter had faced the murderer of his parents and countless others in the form of his DADA professor.

While it was true that Professor Quirrell was possessed by the spirit of Lord Voldemort, it didn't change the fact that he had a close call with death. Nor did it change the fact the he had killed Quirrell in self-defence.

Oh, it was true that Professor Quirrell was almost dead the moment he got possessed by the spirit of Lord Voldemort as Professor Dumbledore told him. But it didn't stop him from having dreams about those cruel lifeless eyes that stared at him and accused him of their murder.

It was true. Harry had killed in self-defence. He had taken a life. And in taking a life he had lost his innocence. Something fundamental had changed within him. He told both of his friends- Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, that he didn't remember what happened when he touched Professor Quirrell. It was a lie.

He had feared that they would turn away from him. That they would not want a murderer as their friend. That they would flinch whenever they saw him. Oh, he knew that they would stare at him in horror and revulsion if he told them how he could feel the skin melting from Quirrell's body when he touched him. There were times when he couldn't look at himself in mirror without flinching at what he had become.

He had spent most of his summer locked in his room where he was only allowed to get out twice a day. Once in the morning to cook breakfast for his relatives, if he could call them that, and once in the evening to use the restroom. The only salvation that he had expected that summer was that he had two friends who would at least send him letters.

And just like everything else in his short life, that had been a disappointment as well. He had waited for the letters from his friends everyday since he got back. And that was all he did for the major part of the summer when he wasn't doing chores for his relatives.

_Maybe they don't want to be friends with a murderer?_ A small voice insisted from the back of his mind. It brought all of his self-doubts and insecurities that he had tried very hard to bury deep inside. He waited and waited for their letters as he himself was unable to send his own.

His relatives had taken away his things and locked them in his previous bedroom- the cupboard under the stairs. They had also locked his owl- Hedwig, inside her cage. So, he had no means to contact his friends. To get the assurance that they still wanted to remain friends with him.

Day after day passed and he resigned himself to the understanding that they didn't want to be his friends. And somehow, he found himself perfectly alright with that thought. See, Harry Potter didn't have friends for the first ten years of his life. So, he was perfectly alright with being alone.

Imagine his surprise when he found out that his friends had sent him letters but they were intercepted by a crazy house-elf named Dobby. The same crazy house-elf whose actions led him to have a broken arm, a warning for unauthorized use of magic and being starved for the past three days.

It was safe to assume that Harry was not amused by this. His temper had always been his biggest flaw and in his temper, he had binned those letters without reading them. His relatives had taken great delight in pointing out the lack of communication from his friends. _After all, who would want to be friends with a freak?_

Oh, he had tried to retrieve those letters. Unfortunately, they were gone by the time his temper cooled down. So, here he was, staring out of the window and going through the events of his first year. Things that he could have done better.

And he realized, that there were plenty of things that didn't make sense with his behaviour in the first year of his magical education at Hogwarts.

Harry prided himself in the fact that he was not a bigot. After all he was nothing like his relatives. And his relatives were the most bigoted people he had ever seen. Oh, he was biased about them but with the way they treated him, was he wrong in doing so?

But then, somehow before he reached Hogwarts, he had the perception that everyone from the house of Slytherin was evil and the Dumbledore could do no wrong. How did that happen?

Looking back, he understood just how that happened. He didn't think that there was something like a conspiracy involved, it could have just been a strange set of coincidences. Even that theory had many holes.

He was of the understanding that a staff member was required to introduce a muggle-born student to the world of magic. So why was a groundskeeper sent for him? No offence to Hagrid but the big fellow was not the right person to introduce a muggle-born child to the world of magic.

His hero-worship of Albus Dumbledore aside, Harry was not given anything that should have been and had been provided to other muggle-born students. Things like brochures about Hogwarts, information about magical Britain in general, available subjects, means of magical transportation, a brief guide to magical customs. None of this was provided to him.

And that was before Hagrid introduced him as a celebrity in the Diagon Alley. Why was a grounds-keeper sent for the introduction of a very famous celebrity to the world of magic? He would have hoped for someone with authority over children to do the task. Especially if he was as important as the people considered him to be.

Even more suspect was the fact that the key of his trust vault was with the headmaster of a school. The same headmaster that he had heard nothing about. If that wasn't enough to make him wary, there were many things that seemed suspicious in hindsight now.

Harry Potter thought of himself to be the kind of boy who would avoid confrontation at any cost. Being bullied regularly since the early years of his childhood, he understood very well that he shouldn't antagonize the bullies further by making disparaging remarks.

'Harry Hunting', a game played by his cousins and his friends, taught him to run as fast as possible and to avoid people like them if possible. After all, he was just a little runt with a bad reputation because of his relatives that no one in any position of authority would believe his word over other's.

So, why did he antagonize Draco Malfoy, a boy from a significantly powerful family, in defence of a boy he had known only for hours? No, despite what anybody said, that was not in his nature. He had been a victim of systematic bullying for a long time to make enemies as recklessly as he did.

And that is not taking into consideration that he knew nothing about the term 'blood-traitor' that was used by Malfoy in the first. There might have been a feud going on between those two families that he knew nothing about.

Those two things and the talk with Ronald's father about the houses had worked wonders for his world view. And somehow when the time of his sorting came, he was prepared to do anything he could to avoid being sorted in the house of snakes.

_'All the dark wizards come from the house of snakes.'_

_'Voldemort was said to be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin.'_

_Be careful of the house of green, they arenever up to any good.'_

One thing common that everyone he met before the school started said along with vilifying Slytherins were the praises of Albus Dumbledore and House of Gryffindor. He still couldn't understand how he became a bigot in such a small amount of time.

Oh, don't get him wrong. He was bullied by some slytherin over the course of the year but it was not like his house didn't add fuel to the fire. Especially the Weasley-twins. He understood that they were just trying to be funny most of the times but they were doing it at the cost of other's humiliation. That just made them bullies in his mind.

There were many such inconsistencies that he noticed over the year. Ronald Weasley and his family being one of them. The boy himself was very lazy with only two things that he focussed on. Quidditch and Chess. None of them were especially desirable to Harry.

Oh, he was seeker of his team but only because he was too afraid that he was going to be expelled that he didn't realize that he got drafted for the house team. He liked flying, there was no doubt about it but quidditch was far too dangerous a game for him to enjoy. Seriously, what kind of game had people targeting each other with large metallic balls?

The boy, Ronald, was the sixth youngest of the seven children their family had. From what he was told, his eldest brother worked as a curse breaker with the goblins, his second eldest brother who studied dragons.

They had their own experience with dragon that year too. And Harry was sufficiently convinced that he didn't want to see another for a long time. They had helped the grounds keeper in illegal transportation of a dragon to the continent. And had gotten caught after that. Enough said.

Their third youngest Percy was perhaps the only one he could respect. Not because of his stuck-up attitude or his desire to follow rules but because the boy had his priorities straight. Unlike his younger siblings, Percy was more serious regarding his studies and career.

The twins, while talented, seemed to have more time to cause mischief and bully others and Ron spent his time learning things about quidditch and practicing chess. And somehow, Harry got involved in being lazy and wasting time with him. That attitude, like many other things, didn't make sense to him.

When he was preparing to go to Hogwarts, the first thing that he realised was that he would no longer have to score less than his cousin. He was going to a completely new world and he had a desire to learn everything about it, just like every other muggle-born student.

The fact that he wasted his time in meaningless things like quidditch and chess and exploring and butting his nose in others business worried him. That was not how he normally behaved.

All these things weren't what made him wary of the Weasley family. No, it was the pity-gift that they sent him on christmas that made him dislike them. It was not like they knew each other well enough to send gifts.

He considered it extremely rude and decided to stay away from such presumptuous people. The fact that they were called blood-traitors in their own society was a factor too. He understood that he didn't know much about the wizarding society to make judgement but he knew enough to understand that anything that ended with traitor was not good.

Then there was the troll incident of the night of Halloween, what possessed him to jump on the back of a mountain troll and stick his wand in its nose? While he didn't mind the results of his actions, they saved a girl, he was shocked at the way he acted.

The troll was more than twice his size and he jumped on his back. That was so much out of his normal character that he almost considered it a dream. But it had happened and he didn't know why he did the things that he did.

And all these things brought him to the heart of the matter- the philosophers stone. He wondered if he had not interfered with the traps then the Dark Lord would have spent eternity in front of the mirror. After all, that was what the 'Mirror of Erised' was for. The mirror that showed the deepest desire of the person.

It was a trap for the thief that was trying to steal the philosopher's stone but instead of a normal person, they were dealing with a professor who was possessed by a Dark Lord. _I wouldn't have had to take Quirrell's life if I had not poked my nose into others business._

That was all it was for. The school was used as a trap to draw out the thief. A bloody school was used to draw out the thief who was courageous enough to try and steal from a goblin bank. And three first year students were able to go past all the traps and stop the dark lord.

Ronald had once said that they were tests put up for Harry Potter. Harry was re-evaluating the credibility of that statement. And he didn't like the conclusion he was reaching.

_The dark lord was trying to make a come-back._

_The headmaster didn't seem too shocked by that._

_The same headmaster set a trap in a bloody school by bringing a very valuable artefact._

_The headmaster advises a twelve-year boy that it is alright to accept death._

This didn't put a good picture in his mind. And now there was warning from a crazy house-elf that there was going to be danger at Hogwarts. From his limited interaction with the elf, Harry also realized that the elf was crazy enough to do anything to make sure that he couldn't reach Hogwarts.

A soft hoot from Hedwig brought his attention back to her cage in the corner of his small room. "I am alright, Hedwig. The pain is dulled enough that it doesn't bother me too much." He smiled when she hooted a reply. He was always able to understand his owl. Or at least the gist of it.

"Yes, I will be fine as soon as I get back to Hogwarts. Madam Pomphrey would be able to fix it in a jiffy." He smiled at the bird. "Hedwig? Do you think that the Potter's had house-elfs?" He cursed himself for not taking any initiative to know more about his family.

The bird hooted something in answer. "You think I should try calling for them?" A hoot later, he shrugged and tried. "Uh, Potter elf?" He had not hoped for there to be loud pop in the room. Nor did he expect an elf to answer the call.

"Who's is calling Mispy?" The little elf looked around the room before she spotted Harry. "Young master Harry." The little elf squealed and rushed forward dancing circles around Harry. "I's been waiting for your call for a very long time." The elf bowed and touched her head to his hand.

"What are you talking about?" Harry frowned. "I didn't even know the Potter family had any elf." The little elf seemed to straighten up at that and looked around. Frowning Mispy scrunched her face and closed her eyes.

A few moments later her eyes snapped open and widened. "You is not supposed to be here." Her shrill voice made his frown. "Nobody wants to be here Mispy. It's not like I have anywhere else to go to." He shrugged while scratching his neck with his unbroken arm.

"No, no." The little elf said in distress. "You is not supposed to stay with Mistress Lily's muggle sister. You is supposed to stay with magical family." Harry frowned in confusion. "No magical family has said anything about that to me through any means."

"I have spent one year in magical Britain now. I do not think I would accept their offer, if they ever contact me." He sighed. There was no way he was going to go live with a magical family he knew nothing about.

At least with Dursley, he knew what to accept. He was not going to go with the first family that showed their face. He was not that desperate. Mispy closed her eyes for a few more moments before snapping. He didn't understand but he was certain the little elf did magic. Great, now he was going to receive another warning.

"Then I's must follow Mistress's instructions." Her ears flapped as she nodded enthusiastically. "You's be going to live at Lily's Pad. Mistress Lily's instructions were precise." Harry frowned as he saw the elf move around and make his things disappear with a snap of her fingers.

"What were these instructions, Mispy?" He asked to the enthusiastic elf who had managed to get his things from the cupboard they were locked in and had made them disappear along with Hedwig. "I's sorry but Mistress Lily's orders were precise. I's not supposed to tell anyone. You will know when you get there."

She took his and snapped her fingers. "Wait…" Harry never got a chance to protest as he felt his first apparition.

Had Harry stayed, he would have received the warning from the underaged magic control department.

Had Harry stayed, he would have seen the purple face of his Uncle shouting at the department member that was sent to investigate the lack of reply to his underage use of magic hearing with Madam Bones.

Had he stayed, he would have seen how his uncle saved him from getting expelled by denying that Harry was present in the household. Instead, they told the member that Harry had gone to attend a summer camp and then proceeded to rip him a new one while shouting about disturbing normal and upstanding citizens.

Had he stayed, he would have witnessed the somewhat heroic attempt by Ronald Weasley and his twin brothers to rescue him. Well, he would have read about it in the Daily Prophet. The large fine that Arthur Weasley had to pay for his son's stupidity was laughed about in many pureblood circles.

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**HpLcp**

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Harry blinked when the sensation of being forced through a very tight rubber tube diminished and promptly threw up. "My apologies Master Harry, but I was specifically instructed by Mistress Lily to not tell you anything until we were in Lily's pad."

The little elf snapped her fingers and handed him a vial of potion. "Here, drink this. It will cure nausea and help settle your stomach, sir." Without thinking, Harry uncorked the vial and drank its contents.

The effects were instantaneous and Harry felt better than before. He looked around and saw that he standing in a small room that was connected to another room. "Where are we?" He asked in wonder as he saw the various strange silver magical instruments that puffed smoke at regular intervals.

"We's in Lily's pad, Young master Harry. Your mother lived here before she married Master James and moved into the Potter family house. We are in Diagon Alley." Harry's eyes widened when he saw people moving around in Diagon alley.

"Can't they see us?" He noticed that nobody saw in his direction as if he was invisible. "This place is under Fidelius charm of potter family magic, young master. Only those of Potter blood will be able to see it as there is no Lord Potter present." The elf squeaked as she waited patiently beside him.

"Master James was not able to pass the requirements for being the heir of house Potter." The elf squeaked out when Harry prompted for more information. "Why was my father not able to become Lord Potter?" He asked in confusion.

"The Lord Potter bows to no one." The elf seemed oddly proud when she said that. "Master James followed the leadership of someone from a lesser house despite many warnings from Lord Charlus. The ring of Potters rejected master James because of that." The elf looked about ready to cry so Harry hurried to change the topic.

"But I don't have any heir ring to get the knowledge of this place." He wondered out loud. "You's don't need it. The blood knows, the magic knows." He titled his head and wondered about it. "You mean that the family magic is sentient?" He had heard a few purebloods talking about it. He never thought that to be true.

"Yes, it is." Mispy said with narrowed eyes. "You's must go to sleep. Mispy has to heal your body with potions and begin your lessons. Mistress Lily and Mistress Dorea knew you's would be left uneducated in the ways befitting of a Potter if there was no one left to guide you's. Vultures, they claimed, would ensure that the scion of the ancient and noble house of Potter would not know his place in the world."

"Potters have been here for long. Potters must stay for a very long time. They's have a duty, Lord Charlus claimed. They must be taught their ways before its too late." Mispy claimed with a faraway look in her eyes.

"How many elfs do we have, Mispy?" He made a mental note to learn about house-elfs as soon as he could. "Only I is left Master Harry. Other were there. They were bound to Lord Charlus and his lady wife Dorea. They died when Lord and Lady Potter left us." She bowed her head but Harry could hear her sniffle and winced.

"Some bonded with Master James and Mistress Lily, they too died when they left us." Harry closed his eyes as he remembered killing Quirrell and the spirit of Voldemort leaving the body. Feeling dizzy, he asked Mispy to take him to his bedroom.

Had he asked, he would have known that the potion had a diluted sleeping draught mixed in it too. He would stay asleep for a week while his house elf healed his body with various potions and prepared a ritual room to deal with the soul leech stuck in his scar.

Lily Potter had studied the ancient spell she used to protect her extensively. She understood, that the chances that a very small part of Voldemort's soul would get stuck in any nearby living body were great. Just as she understood that the chances of that being her baby boy were very high as well. She didn't want her little baby to deal with a dark lord trying to take over his body.

A week later, Harry Potter would wake up feeling like a completely new person with a new body. He would miss learning about the Weasley incident but by the time he would learn about it, he would be past the stage where he cared about the Weasleys anyway.

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HpLcp

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	2. Chapter 2

**HpLcp**

 

**Chapter 2**

 

Potter manor,

1st November, 1981.

 

Potter family was a very old family whose roots went back to twelfth century. Over the years, every Potter that came added to their something to their name and fortune.

 

While the Potter family was not extremely rich when compared to other old families, they were able to amass a small fortune to their name. With this fortune, they were able to build a mansion that was passed from one generation to another.

 

The Potters, while old, were not considered a part of ‘sacred twenty-eight’. Nor was there a hereditary seat waiting for them in the Wizengamot. But what the Potters did have was a small amount of land for themselves. And they were awarded lordship of those lands and associated magics in the fourteenth century for their contribution in the fight against the Dark wizard Yardley Platt.

 

But that was a long time ago. Those lands were long gone. Yet the Lordship remained, as did its magic. Over a very long time, secrets of magic were researched and compiled and preserved. It gave birth to Potter family magic. No one understood how much sentient family magic was. Nor could anyone understand how it worked.

 

The ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’ were said to posses that knowledge. Those secrets never saw to light of day. Family after family chose to perish rather than part with their secrets. One such secret was the working of the lordship rings.

 

The only thing people knew for sure was that they were forged using ancient spells and that there were stipulations that must be achieved before the ring accepted them. Similar was true for the heir’s ring. Not everyone was worthy of wielding the family magic. Such was its power.

 

The true ritual bound lords were not seen outside of the remaining ‘scared twenty-eight’ families for the past three centuries. And only a handful from Potter family were accepted by the Lordship rings as worthy of their magic in their long history. The last ritual bound Lord Potter was Henry Potter. And that was sixty years ago.

 

The only one to come close to achieving that feat was Lord Charlus, who was accepted by the heir’s ring but not the lord’s ring. Though he was still known as Lord Potter like every head of the old families were considered Lords.

 

The Potter line had almost ended with Fleamont Potter who was unable sire children of his own for a long time. Fleamont Potter took the Potter coffers and quadrupled it by creating Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. Though he had to sell the company when he retired as there was no one to inherit the vast fortune. But then, Magic blessed him and his wife, Euphemia, and their beloved boy James Potter was born.

 

Just as over two decades ago, Fleamont and Euphemia were blessed with a child, so was their boy who married a Lily Evans. It was unfortunate that they were unable to meet their grandson but they were happy for their child despite the war their generation was living through. At least they were alive and fighting for what they believed in.

 

If only that remained the case, Fleamont and Euphemia would have been delighted to see them grow as a family. Alas, the Potter family remained cursed. Once again, they were chased by death and destruction. This time in the form of a Dark Lord. And that was reason the portrait of Hardwin Potter worried about his descendant’s family.

 

Hardwin Potter had begged and begged his descendants to change their ways and train in the ways of Potters. Live the legacy of their forefathers and follow their footsteps. But they were always keen to follow others.

 

_The Lord Potter followed none._ That had been their motto and that was how they lived their life. With firm beliefs and the strength to face the world for them, they rose to greatness. With hard-work and perseverance they built their legacy and protected their secrets.

 

And like all good things, they too fell from grace. Despite his guidance and advise, only a handful managed to wield the family magic. And only a handful were chosen to be worthy of living in the Potter manor.

 

To this date, he doubted his descendant’s decision to tie the wards of the Potter manor to family magic. While the idea of fidelius charm combined to the family magic was a stroke of genius, he would have liked it if more of his family were able to live in the manor.

 

A maddening scream brought him from his thoughts. “Mispy.” He called in worry. Fortunately, the elf seemed to be nearby and she appeared to him with a pop sound. The elf was shaking as tears formed in her large eyes. “What happened to Harrow?” He asked about the elf that was bonded to James Potter.

 

“Harrow is suffering from a broken bond.” The elf wringed her hands in worry as her ears flapped against her face loudly. Before he could speak further, the sounds of screaming cut-off abruptly. “Go check on Harrow and tell me what is going on.” The abrupt way the bond was broken could only mean that James was dead.

 

He closed his eyes in pain. He had begged James to change his way at least to the point where the heir’s ring would accept him. The wards of Potter manor could survive any dark lord. When James had denied to change his ways, he had approached Lily for help. For years he had tried, but the boy was set in his ways.

 

The reverence they had for some people was so much that they were willing to forget their origins. The traditions their forefathers followed religiously were forgotten in favour of new festivities. They, like many others, became followers of people with little to no respect for the old ways.

 

Mispy appeared to him and shook her head sadly, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Can you at least feel young Harry?” He asked thinking about the ancient spell he had given Lily when she had come to him, sick with worry about the well-being of her child.

 

The single mindedness with which the most recent Dark Lord targeted the Potter family these past few months had irked him the wrong way. Lily had informed him that there was prophecy about her child. But he believed that someone was trying to make it come true. Not every prophecy came true. Most remained unfulfilled.

 

He had not shared his views at that time because he didn’t want the Potters to be afraid of their own shadow. They didn’t know whom they could trust and the one they trusted seemed wrong to him. Their trust in the old headmaster had been a source of many fights between him and the Potters. At least when they were willing to listen to the painting of an old man.

 

He had chosen to keep his council to himself when Lily came to him fifteen months ago, asking for someway to protect her son even at the cost of her own sacrifice. She needed some way to protect her son from the unforgivable killing curse as that was what the Dark Lord preferred. And he had helped her find that ritual as best as he could.

 

“I’s can sense young Master Harry.” The little elf nodded through her tears. “Good, go to Black’s current residence and prepare everything necessary to take care of young Harry.” Hardwin sighed.

 

“From the way Lily described him, Sirius would be at Godric’s Hollow by now. He should be back to his house in a few hours.” Potters had always trusted Sirius and he was certain that they would have found a way to contact Sirius in the event that something happened to them.

 

He hoped that Lily didn’t have to use the ancient ritual. He hoped that little Harry was safe under the fidelius charm waiting for his godfather to pick him up. He always knew that the chances of Lily leaving James to fight alone were slim. He prayed for Lily, hoping against hope that she had managed to get away with her life. And he prayed for James’s soul.

 

**HpLcp**

 

Potter manor,

3rd November, 1981.

 

That evening Hardwin Potter paced in the limited space his portrait provided. There was a distinct lack of other magical portraits in the Potter manor because not many Potters saw any use in having their portraits made.

 

In a way he understood their reasoning, there were not many who took time out of their day to listen to portraits ramble on about days long gone. He, himself, rarely had any visitors after the first century or two.

 

It was fortunate that he met Lily, who had asked the elf about any old portraits that could help her protect her son, and learned about the recent happenings of the Potter family. The last time Potters lived in the ancestral manor was in 18th century.

 

He should have tried harder to stop the Lord from connecting the Lord’s and heir’s rings to the family fidelius. But those were trying times and he understood the need of secrecy when the next person you met was most likely a dark wizard.

 

Allowing only the ritual bound lord and heir the ability to share the secret was brilliant during those times. And the modified fidelius charm that didn’t pass on the secret keepers at the death of the previous ones helped in protecting the location of Potter Manor as well.

 

He would never have imagined that the number of ritual bound Potter lords could be counted with fingers after that. Nor would he have ever thought that the old ways would fade away as easily as they did.

 

Any generation of Potters that lived in the manor were special and very rare. Only ritual bound lords and heir were allowed access to the grounds of Potter manor. Over time, it became rare that any Potter visited the manor if they passed the tests for being the lord or even heir. None of them were willing to leave the home they grew up in in favour of an ancient manor. Not even for their safety.

 

The last Potter Lord to visit the manor was Henry Potter and that was over six decades ago. He had managed to meet Lily Potter when he helped her add the ‘Lily’s Pad’ to the family fidelius charm.

 

Normally, it would only be possible if the caster was Lord Potter with the lord’s ring. But they had managed to modify the charm with little Harry as the secret keeper. He was very impressed with her brilliance.

 

Lily wanted to have a safe place for her son to go to if all of her plans failed and she couldn’t survive the war. With no word from Mispy in the past two days, he was getting worried. Mispy would have returned if Lily was alive.

 

He could try calling the elf but it was not possible. He was just a portrait after all. And so, he waited for the little elf to return. Hoping for some good news.

 

**HpLcp**

 

Potter manor,

4th November, 1981.

 

Hardwin Potter was startled out of his enchanted sleep when Mispy appeared with loud pop. One look at her and he knew that the things had gone very wrong.

 

The little elf was wringing her hands and fat tears rolled down her eyes. “What happened?” He asked in worry. The elf continued to sniffle so he tried again.

 

“I’s cannot feel young master Harry.” She wailed loudly. “And I cannot feel Mistress Lily.” She sniffed and he wondered if she would lose mind despite being bound to the family magic.

 

“What about Sirius? Did he say anything to you? Were you able to meet him?” He asked hurriedly as he knew the elf would not be able to answer anything if she started crying in despair.

 

“Master Sirius didn’t return to his house.” She cried shaking her head. “Mispy waited for him to return. Mispy was very worried but then I’s could not feel master Harry anymore.”

 

_What happened to little Harry?_ He wondered.

 

There were very few ways to block an elf from sensing its future master. One of them was fidelius. And many others were so dark that he didn’t want to think about them. Maybe Sirius did the smart thing and left Harry with the Longbottoms as was the second plan. But then, what happened to Sirius?

 

“Mispy, go bring me the Daily Prophet of the past few days.” He commanded loudly. “And return with haste. Harry is possibly safe where he is.” He needed the elf sane if he wanted to find about the fate of Sirius Black and Harry.

 

This time, it didn’t take long for the house elf to return. If the portrait had any blood in his veins, it would have frozen the moment he read the headlines on one of the newspapers.

**‘Potter’s betrayer’ Sirius Black sentenced to a life time of Azkaban for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles.**

 

He was worried further when he read about Dumbledore claiming Harry Potter as the wizarding world’s ‘saviour’. Dumbledore also claimed that Harry Potter, ‘the boy-who-lived’, was safe and hidden for his own protection.

 

Hardwin Potter didn’t know what game the old fool was playing by declaring to the world that Harry Potter was somehow responsible for the destruction of the Dark Lord. Nor did he like the last Potter being painted as a target for the Dark Lord’s followers like that.

 

He just hoped that Harry was safe with the Longbottom’s while they stayed under the fidelius charm.

 

**HpLcp**

Potter manor,

27th March, 1985.

 

The headlines of Daily Prophet that fateful day worried the old portrait more. But he was also relieved when he didn’t read anything about Harry Potter.

 

**Well-respected Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom tortured to insanity by the Lestrange family and Crouch Junior.**

The article went onto describe how judgement was passed on the perpetrators of the most heinous crimes. The only survivor of that attack was their young son Neville Longbottom.

 

Hardwin Potter closed his eyes and tried to think of possible names Harry would go to if the primary and secondary families were unable to take him in as the Will of Potters mentioned.

 

He knew that the Longbottoms would have felt safe enough to come out of hiding after reading about the fall of Voldemort and the trials of many death eaters. And if they came out of hiding, then Harry was not left with them like he originally assumed.

 

They had gone in to hiding around the same time as the Potters. The prophecy that worried the Potters could be applied to the Longbottoms as well. And they were targeted because of that as well. While he didn’t believe in prophecies, the Dark Lord seemed to believe it. Though he often wondered how he the Dark Lord learned about it.

 

Someone must have heard the prophecy because a seer never remembered any prophecy they made. Somehow a Death Eater heard the prophecy. Or someone deliberately leaked it in the hopes that the dark lord would go after the Potters or Longbottoms. He just wasn’t sure who did that. Nor was there anything he could do about it as long as he couldn’t find Harry.

 

Maybe the Longbottoms were trying to gain custody of young Harry after they learned about Sirius’ imprisonment. He couldn’t know and that was what worried him the most. Especially since Mispy was unable to sense Harry.

 

The recent elevation of house Potter from noble to ‘noble and ancient’ status was worrying him as well. He knew and understood that the people of wizarding Britain held little Harry in high regards but elevation of a house before its time was too much too soon _._

_Who was going to ensure his education? Who was going to teach him the ways of Potters?_ The ridiculous ‘Boy-who-lived’ stories were sure to make people think of Harry as some kind of Messiah. At least the children. And if little Harry was not trained then he would not be able to handle the pressure.

 

He had tried sending Mispy to every contact that Lily had let him know about in the hopes that they could point him to Harry’s location. But it was all in vain. No one knew about Harry and no one wanted to push matters when Dumbledore himself was appointed as the magical guardian of the boy.

 

The suppression of the Potter’s Will sent all kinds of alarms in his mind. What was Dumbledore trying by suppressing the Will and making himself the boy’s magical guardian? Why was nothing being done about the unlawful use of Harry’s name in all these ridiculous books? Was Dumbledore trying to make Harry as the poster boy of Light faction and muggle-born wizards and witches?

 

Potters were primarily a grey family and only recently had they openly started supporting the light. That was only because of James’ desire to follow the great Albus Dumbledore. It was good thing that James was not the Potter lord and didn’t have any significant political power. James would have given all that power to Dumbledore if asked.

 

That was why the heirs were educated in the ways of their family from a very young age. The traditions and duties were often forgotten and they were prone to getting manipulated by those with better knowledge and use the family’s power to further others political agendas.

 

The Potters were traditionally neutral. They, in their long history, never showed complete support to either sides. They were considered purebloods by many despite their tendency to marry muggle-borns. And they had followed centuries of traditions and festivals, rituals and magics.

 

They had taken a stand against going to war with muggles while supporting the International Statue of Wizarding secrecy. They had publicly spoken against a minister who wanted to kill goblins. The Potters always stood for what they believed in. It would not do for the Potters to suddenly be sheep and follow fools.

 

He needed to find the Potter heir and soon. Till then, he would follow the plan he helped Lily formulate and make preparations for when the time came.

 

**HpLcp**

Potter manor,

4th June, 1992.

 

Hardwin Potter’s portrait jumped in sudden fright when Mispy popped into the room and started jumping around excitedly. “I’s can feel master Harry again. I’s can feel master Harry again. I’s can feel master Harry again.” The little elf cheered excitedly and a smile formed on Hardwin’s face as he thought about little Harry.

 

“Calm down, elf.” He laughed loudly when Mispy did elf’s equivalent of blush and looked down at her feet. “Tell me about little Harry.” Hardwin chuckled when Mispy started talking at a fast pace.

 

“Slow down and start over.” He smiled patiently. “I’s can feel Young Master again.” Mispy was positively radiating with joy. “Master Harry is alive although he doesn’t seem to be in a very good place.” She nodded her excitedly. “Master Harry’s goes to Hoggywarts.”

 

“Good.” He nodded. “I want you to go and keep an eye on him. Make sure to follow him to his residence but do not, I repeat, do not make contact with him until I tell you to.” He was worried that whatever enchantments had kept Harry hidden from the house elf would be strengthened by the caster if they knew about Mispy following Harry.

 

He frowned when he saw Mispy look down at her feet in sadness. “Don’t worry, Mispy. Harry will be with us as soon as I get to know more about his current residence and the people he lives with.” He smiled seeing the way the elf’s face lit up in joy.

 

“Remember to take the device to locate the ward stones. Oh, and take the memory crystal with you as well. I want to see little Harry too. He should be grown up tall and strong by now.” He chuckled as he remembered seeing the little baby for the first time. He would be wiping tears of joy if he was capable of that function.

 

**HpLcp**

Potter manor,

25th July, 1992.

 

Hardwin Potter snarled and tried to think of all the ways he could make those muggles who dared to treat his little Harry in that abominable manner as he finished viewing the memory.

 

“They dare…” He sputtered, too enraged to speak properly. “They dare treat a child in this despicable manner.” He roared. “I swear to Merlin, I will rip them limb by limb if I ever get the opportunity to.” He snarled, looking at the cowering elf.

 

“Mispy.” He said sharply. “Go and prepare Lily’s Pad. There is no way the Potter heir is going to live those despicable muggles.” He sneered while thinking of all the ways he could employ to destroy those Dursley’s.

 

“Well.” He asked sharply when he saw that Mispy had yet to move from her place. “I’s think master Hardwin should see the wards first.” The elf said after taking some deep breaths. “Master is too angry to think properly.” He frowned at the rare show of defiance from the elf.

 

“Well, then show me.” He was still too enraged to think correctly. And for a portrait, that was saying something. But then again, the portraits did simulate the thought process and behaviour of the person. He never could think properly when he was enraged.

 

The elf rummaged for the correct crystal and within moments he was able to see the ward-stone clearly. “Sweet Morgana.” He mumbled and the painting turned several shades pale, if that was even possible.

 

“Go. Leave me alone for some time.” He mumbled. “But prepare Lily’s pad for Harry’s arrival. And leave the crystal working for now. I will try and think of a way to counter the monitoring charms of the blood-wards.” He could not think why anyone would cast something as horrible as blood-wards on a muggle house.

 

“Wait.” He said before Mispy could pop away to keep an eye on her charge. “I want you check the house and young Harry for any kind of charms. Don’t remove them, I want you to make a list of those and bring them back to me. There might be some of those we can use to our benefit.”

 

He muttered several profanities about irresponsible wizards who had nothing better to do and were willing to endanger muggles in order to further their own agenda. “Remember to disguise yourself properly and make sure to do nothing that could alert the magical sensors that are sure to be on that house.”

 

“Oh, and I want you to mix calming draughts in everything they eat in that house. Make sure to give a purging-potion to Harry first. Who knows what he has been eating for the past year without making sure that they were safe?” He wondered if anyone was callous enough to potion a child in Hogwarts but then again, he could never be sure.

 

**HpLcp**

 

Potter manor,

29th July, 1992.

 

“There.” He pointed. “Do that stroke properly. Do it exactly the same as described in the book.” He muttered thinking about all the tracking spells, anti-scrying spells, health monitoring charms and mail blocking charms the elf had to remove from Harry while adding a mail-redirection charm with the location of the enchanted letter box linked to the Lily’s pad.

 

The caster of those charms had gone out of his way to ensure that Harry couldn’t be contacted through letters and that he was aware of the abysmal conditions Harry lived in. There were so many tracking charms on his things, it left Hardwin baffled. He could not understand the casters’ motives.

 

Many of them were so strong that removing them left the little elf exhausted. And Mispy was a particularly strong elf; given the fact that she was bonded through the Potter’s family magic. “Very good.” He praised the proud house-elf.

 

“Now, you remember to place them exactly as I directed and make sure they cannot be seen by the muggles.” He had managed to device a way to fool the blood-wards. Being as ancient as he was had a few perks as well.

 

Someone very strong had managed to cast the blood-wards on a muggle house. He didn’t want to think about the effects they had on the residents but he was duty bound to investigate. It was his nature to help others in their time of need.

 

“Remember to cast the charms to repel the house elf you sensed on the property.” He was thankful that Mispy was not as crazy as the other house elf. House elfs, while childish, were not as crazy as the one that lurked around Harry’s house. “Yes, Master Hardwin.” The little elf answered dutifully as she packed the ward-stones.

 

“Good. Now, once that is done, I want you to keep an eye on the house elf who keeps stealing Harry’s letters. Make sure that Harry sees the elf in some way, use compulsion charms if you must. Harry should be perfectly capable of dealing with the situation by himself.” The elf nodded and he continued with his orders.

 

“I want you to appear before him as soon as he utters anything about family elf or anything remotely related to Potter’s house-elf. Even him wondering about his own elf would do. Not a moment before that, do you understand?” The little elf nodded excitedly at the prospect of being near young Harry again.

 

“Good. When you appear to him, I want you to act like you are visiting him for the first time.” He explained further when the elf looked confused. “He wouldn’t be happy if he knew that we were spying on him. You don’t want little Harry to be mad at you, do you?” The elf shook her head frantically and squeaked out hurried denials.

 

“Besides, we don’t want him to know that we were poisoning their food with potions; even if they were just calming potions, do we?” He asked rhetorically.

 

“Now, after you meet him, I want you to take him and all his things to Lily’s Pad where you will be giving him a potion to help with the nausea of apparition travel. You will mix a mild sleeping draught in that potion as well.” He sighed thinking of all the deception he had to ask the elf to commit.

 

“And then you will treat him for all the scars he has as well as give him regular doses of nutrition potion and prepare the ritual for removing the soul leech that he is stuck with.” He muttered.

 

“Yes, I know that we are not certain about the soul leech yet but that is why we have the instruments in working order in his room.” He spoke when the elf looked ready to protest. “They will be able to confirm the suspicions Lily had.”

 

The dark lord had somehow managed to survive being blasted apart at least once from what he could recall Lily telling him. Well, not being blasted apart but losing enough body parts and blood that made his survival impossible. Even with magic.

 

That worried him. There was a reason Voldemort created so much fear that people wouldn’t even speak his name without flinching. That was why he wanted to deal with the soul leech as soon as possible. He wanted no part of the foul Dark Lord near little Harry.

 

“Then, while you prepare for the ritual, I want you to dose Lily’s sister with weak truth serum and ask a few questions.” He was not certain whether that would work or not. But with right questions, he hoped to, at least, find out why Petunia treated her nephew as horribly as she did.

 

He knew that the sisters hated each other for a long time but he was also aware that they were trying to mend their relationship. Especially after the death of their parents. With a sigh he hoped what he found was not as horrible as he suspected.

 

**HpLcp**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Privet Drive No. 4,

Little Whinging, Surrey.

August 7th, 1992.

 

Petunia Dursley was a woman who tried to live her life as normally as possible. The death of her sister; freak as she called them and their kind, affected her just as much as her parent’s death did. Lily was the last of her blood after all. Over time, they tried to make amends despite the mutual hatred they had for each other.

 

At one point, she might have been perfectly happy to take care of her nephew. At one point, she might have been happy to raise him as her own. At one point, she might have been willing to accept magic for the sake of her nephew. Not anymore. 

 

Not after what happened. Not after what she lost. Every time she looked at her nephew, it reminded her of her loss. Every time she saw her nephew, she thought of the dream that would always remain a dream. 

 

Her nephew didn’t just remind her of the loss of her sister, he reminded her of something worse. Magic, she decided, was as horrible as it was beautiful. But she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the beauty of magic. Not after everything that had happened. Not after everything she lost to it.

 

She was not jealous of her sister for her gift of magic as people often believed when they learned about their mutual hatred. She hated the world that took away her sister. She hated the world that she suspected took away her parents before their time. And she hated the world that took away her hopes and dreams. 

 

Sighing, she sat in their living room while thinking about her missing nephew. She wondered if he was safe or if he was with their kind. She wondered if he was happy when he was back among his kind. But then the heart-wrenching pain returned as she was reminded of her loss and then she could not bring herself to care anymore. 

 

Oh, she remembered the last letter she received from their kind that warned her of the danger posed to her nephew from a madman. There was a reason she kept her nephew around, even after losing so much to their kind. 

 

But now, she couldn’t bring herself to worry about her nephew. He was most likely safe with his kind. Good thing too, she didn’t want to spend another summer worrying about her husband throwing temper tantrums every time he saw Harry.

 

A few sips of her tea and she was sure that something was wrong. Her mind clouded and she couldn’t feel her body. She opened her mouth to scream for her husband and son; even though they were not present in the house, but no words came out.

 

A strange-looking creature popped into the room. House-elf, her sister called them. A parchment and quill floated beside the creature. She thought that she was supposed to know the elf but then her mind clouded and she forgot what she was thinking. 

 

“Are you Petunia Dursley?” The elf asked her in a small, squeaky voice.

 

“Yes.” Her mouth moved involuntarily even when she wanted to scream abuse and tell the creature to leave her and her family alone.

 

“Are you Lily Potter’s sister?” The elf asked while looking at the parchment in her little hands.

 

“Yes.” She answered again while fearing what the little creature wanted with her. 

 

“Is Harry Potter your nephew?”  _So, that’s what this is about?_ She thought in scorn. Somehow everything came back to her nephew. 

 

“Yes.” She wondered who sent the little creature. 

 

“Why do you hate your nephew?” The hostility in her voice amused Petunia.

 

“I do not hate my nephew.” The words left her even though she tried to stop them. She hated her nephew. There was nothing she hated more in the whole wide world. But then she wondered how true it was.

 

The elf looked up from her parchment, just as confused as her. The little elf muttered something under her breath. “Then why do you treat him horribly?” She asked with narrowed eyes.

 

“I do not know.”  _That’s what he deserves. You freaks are nothing better than dirt._ She shouted in her head but the words didn’t come out.  _What is happening here?_ This was too real to be some kind of dream. 

 

The elf popped away after glaring at her for some moments and she woke up in her bed.  _That was a very weird dream._ She thought to herself while calling for her son to go get some groceries. 

 

**HpLcp**

 

Grunnings,

August 8th, 1992.

 

Vernon Dursley heaved a sigh as he sat back in his chair. It was a taxing day for him. Being a sales-executive was a difficult job, but it was something he enjoyed. 

 

Making deals while making both his superiors and clients happy was his art. It was something he was good at and something he enjoyed. 

 

Staring at the paperwork in front of him, he sighed. The only thing in his job that bored him was the paperwork. But it was manageable, so he decided to suck it up and get on with it. 

 

He wondered if he could save enough money to take his family on a long summer holiday. His freak nephew would have to stay with their neighbours for the time being. He would be glad just to have the boy out of his side.

 

They were good, honest people who didn’t need any freakish behaviour around them. That freakishness had already cost them too much. He didn’t want to lose more to it. At least the boy was out of his sight for now.

 

Ordinarily, he would not even spend a second thinking about his nephew and everything he represented. But these were not ordinary times, were they? Just a few days ago, Mrs Figg was asking him about the boy. They often left the boy with her when they wanted to go out and have fun as a family. 

 

And he didn’t know how to answer the lady who used to babysit his nephew. So, he told her the same thing he did to those freaks who turned up at his house asking about his nephew doing magic. That his nephew was out on a summer camp. He then proceeded to tear strips out of those freaks for disturbing the lives of normal people like them.

 

He was angry enough knowing that his nephew had disappeared without even the curtsey of informing them, the questions from his neighbours about the little boy were just angering him.

 

As if the boy could use his freakishness after he took his stick away. But when he checked the cupboard for the stick, he was astonished to find them gone with everything that belonged to his nephew. 

 

 _Good riddance._  He thought after spending some time worrying about the freakish nature of the events. At least he didn’t have the constant reminder of those freaks and the things he lost to them whenever he saw his nephew. 

 

Sighing, he signed another report and took a sip of his tea. His mind clouded as he thought about the latest toy his son was asking about.

 

“Are you Vernon Dursley?” A very high-pitched voice asked from somewhere he could not see. His body didn’t respond when he tried to turn towards the source.

 

“Yes.” His mouth moved, and he was scared when he couldn’t scream for help.

 

“Are you Petunia Dursley’s husband?” The voice asked again. 

 

“Yes.” He tried frowning but his body didn’t respond. 

 

“Why do you hate your nephew?”  _He is what this was about._ He thought viscously. 

 

“Because he is not normal.” As if that answered everything. And for Vernon Dursley, it answered everything.

 

“Why do you think he is not normal?” The high-pitched voice sounded angry, and he smiled. At least he tried smiling, but his body didn’t respond.

 

“Because he uses magic.” Even under whatever freakiness he was, he couldn’t keep the disdain out of his voice when he thought about magic.

 

“Why did you take him in then?” The voice asked after a pause.

 

“I didn’t want to take the little boy in. After reading the letter that was in his basket, my wife insisted.” How he wished he had pushed further to change his wife’s decision that fateful night.

 

“Why did your wife insist on taking the boy under your roof?”

 

“I do not know.” He answered in the same monotonous voice while wondering about it. 

 

There was a pause, and he heard papers shuffling. “Why do you hate magic?” The squeaky voice asked again.

 

And he remembered. He remembered all the unpleasant experiences that made him hate magic. The humiliation he felt when someone turned his hair orange and made him tap-dance while singing ridiculous songs at his sister-in-law’s engagement party.

 

He remembered discovering the pig’s tail he had when he returned from that party. He remembered the embarrassment and the trauma he had to suffer. He remembered the money he had to spend to get the tail removed surgically. He remembered how he had to make do with what little money it left him with after that event.

 

It even affected his first choice of an engagement ring for his wife. He remembered the snipes and insults they faced when they attended that engagement and later the wedding of the Potters. 

 

He remembered his wife pleading with her sister to leave the magical world behind after everything that happened to them. He remembered his wife pleading with her sister to leave the country after she heard about the madman trying to kill them. He remembered how it all fell on deaf ears.

 

He remembered being worried sick about the fate of his nephew when he heard about the death of the boy’s parents. Whispered words on the streets talking about the fate of the Potter couple. Singing praises of the little boy who did the unimaginable. About the disappearance of ‘You-know-who’. 

 

He remembered asking his wife about the boy they had only heard about. And he remembered his wife not caring about it. They had tried mending their relationship but after the humiliation and insults, enough was enough. He dared not mention the Potters around his wife. Not that he felt inclined to do that after his own experience with magic. 

 

He remembered worrying about the costs and difficulties of raising another boy when they found Harry on their doorstep with no documentation. He remembered how his wife wanted another child of her own. A girl this time. He remembered his wife accepting to raise her nephew at least grudgingly and deciding to try for another child in a few years when they were financially stable.

 

And he remembered how traumatic it was for them to know that somehow his wife lost her ability to give birth a few years later. His wife broke down that day and it was all he could do to keep her sane and responsive. Even the learned experts were left scratching their heads. 

 

Combined that with finding their child flying upside down in his room while their nephew laughed happily and clapped his hands in joy, they knew who was to blame for their misfortune.

 

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back and made them what they were and how they treated their nephew. And he said it all. He talked about all the unpleasant experiences he had with magic for hours as tears fell down his fat cheeks.

 

“Mr Dursley.” He woke with a start and stared at his secretary. “Good. You are awake. The boss wants to talk to you about the recent deal you failed in making. The clients are willing to give you another chance. Don’t spoil it.” His secretary frowned at him when he mumbled a reply while shaking the cobwebs of his nap. He wondered why he couldn’t remember how he fell asleep.

 

“Stop day-dreaming, Mr Dursley.” He heard his secretary snap from near his office’s door. “The boss will not wait for you the whole day.” 

 

“Coming, coming.” He muttered while finding the relevant files. With the freak not around to spoil things for him, he was sure he would make the deal.

 

**HpLcp**

 

Lily’s pad,

Diagon Alley.

August 11th, 1992.

 

Harry Potter woke up with a groan. For the first time in months, he was able to sleep without having nightmares about the death of Professor Quirrell. 

 

The blurry world focused as soon as he was able to find his glasses and wear them. After a satisfying stretch, he looked around the bedroom his mother had prepared for him. The place where his mother lived before marrying his father. 

 

The room was decorated with all kinds of magical instruments. He would have never thought his mother would choose emerald green for the room. But then again, it matched both his mother’s and his eyes perfectly. And it calmed him. 

 

“Mispy.” He called for the house-elf as he searched for the hand-me-downs from his cousin to wear. 

 

“Yes, Master Harry.” The little elf popped into view as he rummaged through his trunk. 

 

“Where are my clothes? The ones you brought with me.” He asked as he found only new clothes in his trunk. Most of them were robes. 

 

“Mistress Dorea asked me to burn those clothes, Young Master Harry.” The little elf wrung her hands in worry when she saw him frown. “She said such clothes are not befitting the station of the Potter heir.”

 

“Who is Mistress Dorea?” He asked after a moment. He was certain he would not miss his cousin’s old clothes. He also wondered who paid for his clothes. 

 

“Mistress Dorea is your great grandmother.” The elf said enthusiastically after she was certain that Harry was not unhappy with her.

 

“Great grandmother.” Harry mused, wondering if she was talking about magical portraits or ghosts. “Is she a portrait?” He asked.

 

“Oh, yes. I’s had to go to the Black manor to retrieve Mistress Dorea’s portrait. All the other portraits were destroyed during the first war.” Mispy answered with a smile, her ears flapping. “Mistress Dorea is waiting for you to get ready. She says she wants to begin your etiquette classes as soon as you’s are ready.”

 

Harry nodded, and she elaborated further. “Mistress Dorea also wants to know more about you. She says you have to answer many letters and get prepared to visit your parent’s grave tomorrow. There is someone she wants you to meet there.”

 

Harry’s breath hitched when he heard about his parent’s grave. No one told him where his parents were buried. Or where they lived. It was always ‘Your parents were great people, Harry.’ Or ‘You look just like your father but your eyes, there are all Lily’s.’ 

 

He didn’t even know what kind of people they were. People said his parents were good people. But he was uncertain if those people even knew his parents. No one had ever claimed to be good friends with his parents yet. At least he didn’t remember anyone proclaiming them. 

 

People like Hagrid claimed that they were good people. But he knew that Hagrid was simple-minded enough to not see the bad in them. The guy claimed Snape was good, all because he trusted Dumbledore’s word. So, yes, Harry had his reservations about things that came out of Hagrid’s mouth. 

 

It was not an offence to the big fellow, but no one could deny that the man trusted too easily. And he had shown himself to be remarkably cruel when he gave his cousin a pig’s tail using magic. Dudley, no matter how cruel to him, was a boy of eleven. Intentional or not.

 

Harry didn’t think he deserved the trauma of that. Yes, he thought the whole thing was funny. And that was before he knew that Dudley had to undergo an operation to surgically remove the tail. And that was not talking about the giant man’s idea of cute things. Dragons and giant three-headed dogs came to mind.

 

Harry tried to push the thoughts of the gentle giant to the back of his mind as he finished his morning rituals. He knew that his etiquette classes would be painfully embarrassing as soon as he saw the portrait of a stern-looking blonde. 

 

Her first remark as soon as she noticed him was “Finally got the time to visit, little Harry?” The accompanying sneer told him that she was not impressed. 

 

Thus, began his magical education accompanied by a lot of insults, snipes at his manners and guilt whenever the portrait pointed out the many mistakes he made throughout his first year at Hogwarts. Many of which were potentially dangerous and life-threatening for others as well. 

 

“Seriously, how were you going to stop an experienced Professor from stealing the stone? With Wingardium Leviosa?” Dorea huffed while staring at the red-faced Harry. Even with all that, he was happy that he finally got to learn about his parents and his magical heritage.

 

**HpLcp**

 

Godric’s Hollow,

West Country, England.

August 13th, 1992.

 

Eighty-seven-year-old retired Unspeakable, Cassiopeia Black appeared on the edge of Godric’s Hollow with a crack. Godric’s Hollow was a small community that was inhabited by several notable wizarding families.

 

 _The old place with many memories._ She thought with a grim smile as she remembered all the historical events that happened there. The most recent being the attack on the Potter family and the destruction of ‘You-know-Who’.

 

Cassiopeia Black, like many Blacks before her, had faked her death a few months ago with the desire to live her remaining days in peace and quiet. 

 

She was successful at making it look like a natural event too. But she forgot one thing, House-elves. Somehow, the portrait of her youngest sister Dorea Potter was able to ask the Black family elf to send a message to her. 

 

Her sister’s family needed help and here she was, back in Britain. Well, she had family obligations too. And whether she liked it or not, she came. It was not often when a portrait of your dead family member asked for help.

 

She was able to learn a lot by having a conversation with her sister’s portrait. And what she learned was enough for her to agree with her sister’s theory. There was a conspiracy involved. 

 

One that might be the end of two old families- Potter and Black. She was going to do her best to raise hell on the parties involved. It was a good thing that she had her little black book. She was certain that she would need help but there was time. She had to contact the boy around whom it all revolved. Namely, one Harry Potter.

 

Reaching the centre of the town while under a strong notice-me-not charm, she stopped as soon as she saw him. A thin little boy, dressed in black robes, staring at a statue at the centre of the village’s square.

 

It depicted a young couple playing happily with their infant child. The statue was erected in memory of James and Lily Potter, a dedication to Harry Potter. 

 

From a distance, it appeared as an obelisk, carved with the names of people who died in the war. But to a witch or wizard, it was a statue of a family. James, Lily and an infant Harry who looked content in his mother’s arms. And although the statue was made of stone, the boy staring at it appeared to be made of glass. 

 

Her heart broke when she saw silent tears streaming down the boy’s face as he touched the faces of his parents; cold and hard as they were. She wanted to go on and console him but she understood that it was something he had to do by himself.

 

This was the first time he was visiting his parents grave and she didn’t want to intrude on a private moment. It was not something she could bring herself to do. The child needed closure. He needed to spend time alone with his parents. To talk to them freely. 

 

She cursed whoever it was that took the boy’s guardianship. They couldn’t even bring themselves to bring the boy to the final resting place of his parents. Albus Dumbledore, she thought, was a very inconsiderate man.

 

She watched from a distance as the boy walked towards the graveyard in a daze. Adding a disillusionment and silencing charm to herself, she followed him. Thinking that the boy would not want to be disturbed, she casted a notice-me-not charm on him too. 

 

She watched for a distance as the boy searched for his parent’s grave. When he found it, she heard him murmur “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” In the silent graveyard, she watched the boy place some lilies on their grave and talk to them.

 

She maintained her distance knowing that he would need privacy. And she couldn’t bring herself to intrude on such an intimate moment of the boy’s life. She knew he would want to talk about himself, his childhood, his relatives, his friends, Hogwarts, the people he met, his likes, his dislikes, his hopes, his dreams. They were things she had no business knowing about.

 

And yet she stayed and watched from a distance as the boy sat in front of the graves and talked for hours. She would just have to introduce herself some other time now. The boy looked drained. She should have expected him to be. 

 

She watched as the emotionally exhausted boy called for his elf and popped away from sight. With a sigh, she turned and returned to her apartment. She would have to introduce herself some other day. 

 

**HpLcp**

 

Godric’s Hollow,

West Country, England.

August 20th, 1992.

 

Cassiopeia Black watched from a distance as Harry once again sat in front of his parent’s grave and talked. She had watched the boy sit in front of his parent’s grave and talk to them for hours after the boy’s first visit. 

 

She wanted to join the boy and introduce herself but she hesitated when she saw the look of profound sadness on his face. The look of longing on his face every time he saw the statue of his parents broke her heart. 

 

She decided to leave the consoling to her sister’s portrait. She, unfortunately, was not the right person to do it. Having little experience with children, she knew that one wrong word would be disastrous.

 

It took some time but she was certain that she could introduce herself to the child now. Her sister said that the boy required an adult’s guidance. It was something he lacked sorely. Portraits and elves could only provide so much.

 

With a sigh, she stepped towards the boy after removing the charms she had on herself. “They gave their lives so that others might live.” She murmured as she watched the boy jump with a start. Harry smiled sadly, knowing what she meant.

 

With a flick of her wand, she conjured a wreath of roses and placed it on the graves. A snowy white tombstone that showed birth and death date of the Potters. The graveyard was said to be ‘magnificently haunted’.

 

“Greetings, young Harry.” She smiled when the boy looked at her and extended her hand. Harry, quick on uptake, took her hand flipping it over and gently kissed her knuckles while staring into her eyes.

 

“Madame Cassiopeia Black, I presume.” Harry smiled while taking a step back. “Lady Dorea said you would meet me here.” His black robes moved gently with the wind.

 

“I am sure she did. Would you like to take a walk with this old lady?” She smiled lightly and extended her hand. “Have you visited the Potter’s cottage yet?” She knew he had not.

 

“No,” Harry answered while staring at his feet. “I, uh…” He stumbled at the words, not knowing how to answer. Visiting his parent’s grave was overwhelming enough, he didn’t think he could handle a visit to the place they were murdered. 

 

Cassiopeia smiled sadly and decided to leave it for some other time. “Maybe some other time, young Harry. You can visit the Potter’s cottage when you are ready. Maybe with a close friend of yours?” She smiled when Harry nodded and murmured his consent.

 

“Dorea says that you have some fascinating stories to tell.” She started slowly while keeping an eye on the boy. His immediate tensing told her that he knew what she was talking about. “Easy there, young man. I am not going to force you to talk about it.”

 

“I just want you to know that I am here to help you in any way I can. I have many contacts in the ministry that could help you, but they won’t be able to do so if they don’t know about it.” She saw him frown in thought and smiled. At least he knew not to trust someone immediately. 

 

“But we can do that at a later date. I am sure Dorea gave you some instructions to follow. Rituals and rings to prepare for your protection. What do you say we get that done first?” When the boy gave his consent, she continued. “Then we can talk about this dark lord of yours and how to deal with him. Those who do not speak would be able to help us. Most likely without putting you in unnecessary danger.”

 

“What do you mean ‘those who do not speak’?” The boy asked in confusion. So, his education was not that far ahead yet. Interesting. Dumbledore was keeping the boy very ignorant. Then again, a twelve-year-old had no business knowing about Unspeakables.

 

“I am talking about Unspeakables, young Harry.” She glanced around as she heard the sounds of people enjoying their day and casted a notice-me-not charm on herself and her charge. “They work for the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Well, I can’t share much about them and what they do but I can confirm that they would be able to help you.”

 

“Really? Headmaster Dumbledore should be able to help you more with regards to that. He didn’t seem too shocked when I said it was Voldemort who was trying to steal the stone.” If Harry expected her to flinch upon hearing the dark lord’s name, he was sorely disappointed. 

 

“Don’t you think that if Dumbledore wanted people to know that the dark lord was trying to return, he would have already done so?” She mused, knowing that Dumbledore would never part with his secrets. “I have yet to hear anything about the debacle at the end of your first year from my contacts in ministry, Harry.” 

 

“And trust me, any news regarding the possible return of the dark lord would spread like wildfire. Besides, you should not speak that name so freely.” She cautioned.

 

“Why should I not say his name? Dumbledore says that fear of the name spreads fear of the man.” Harry asked while looking around at the various cottages around them.

 

“There is a reason why people fear speaking his name.” Cassiopeia sighed, thinking of various ways to strangle Dumbledore for giving wrong advice to a young boy. “There was a taboo placed on that name, Harry.” 

 

She continued speaking as she knew that Harry wouldn’t know about everything. “Every time someone spoke his name, Voldemort and his death-eaters would be alerted of their location. You can imagine what their fate was when they appeared there.” Glancing at Harry’s pale face, she knew he understood.

 

“But, then, why would Dumbledore insist on calling him by his name?” Harry asked in despair.  _Why would he want to put me in danger like that?_ Especially since neither Voldemort nor his death eaters were gone for good.

 

“Who knows why Dumbledore does half the things he does?” She wanted to shrug but it was not something that was befitting a lady. “Maybe he thought that the curse was removed, though I have my reservations regarding that. You should be cautious about what you choose to believe, Harry. Especially when it comes from Dumbledore.”

 

Knowing that he would want to know the reasons behind that, she elaborated. “Dumbledore keeps many secrets, Harry. You will see that not many people trust Dumbledore, not only from dark families but neutral and light families too.”

 

“He is a good man, true. But he is also a politician who has his own agendas. House Dumbledore is a small family, not noble, quite young too… You can imagine how Albus would want his family name to be remembered. Did you know that his father was sent to prison for killing muggles?” She asked, knowing that she had created enough doubt in young Harry’s mind to be cautious of the old man.

 

“Dorea says he gave you your father’s cloak last Christmas. Did you ask why he had the possession of your heirloom for so long?” She sighed when the boy shook his head in negative. “If your parents had that cloak with them, don’t you think they would have had a better chance of escaping the dark lord?” 

 

“But, but, how was Dumbledore supposed to know that Voldemort would come for my family?” Harry sputtered in disbelief. 

 

“Why wouldn’t he? He was the one who helped hide your parents after all.” She sighed. “Dorea must have told you why your parents went into hiding. If she didn’t, you should ask her when you get the time. You have apparated with your elf, haven’t you? Good, this would be easy if you already know how it feels.”

 

She grabbed his hand tightly when they reached the apparition point. “I have made preparations for your first magical ritual. You will have to ask your elf to bring your rings. Blood magic is often dangerous so remember to follow my instructions precisely.” 

 

“Your rings are very important as well. You will not share anything about them with anyone. Not even your friends. Nor will you share anything about the ritual, I am lucky enough to witness a Potter family ritual.” 

 

“You must understand the importance of family secrets, young Harry. Many people would sell their daughters to get their hands on one of those secrets.” When she was certain that Harry understood, she turned and they disappeared with a crack.

 

**HpLcp**

Greengrass Manor,

August 27th, 1992.

 

Daphne Greengrass, the heir to the Greengrass family, smiled while looking at her reflection. Her long raven-hair were very beautiful, something she was very proud of. Her blue eyes matched perfectly with her new muggle dress. She twirled around and admired herself in front of the magical mirror that sang praises of her beauty.

 

At almost thirteen, Daphne was considered pretty by many and she was proud of her looks. Happily, she took her new charms book and decided to read ahead. She was very pretty, true, but what she admired about herself was her intelligence.

 

Looks were great, but what an heir to the ‘sacred twenty-eight’ required was intelligence and wit. Hers was a very old family. While they didn’t believe in pureblood supremacy, they understood the importance of traditions. Her family also understood the importance of family magic and their secrets, rituals and their importance.

 

A few days ago, she successfully performed a ritual in respect of magic and all it gave them. Her father was very proud of the initiative she took in learning the old ways. Many pure-blooded supremacists would talk about how they were better just because they had wizards and witches in their family for many generations.

 

Those people would never realize that true supremacy was knowledge of magic and rituals. They would never know that true supremacy lies in getting accepted by the family magics. They would never know that true power was wielding family magic. The wizarding world lost more knowledge than it gained.

 

She, finally, was able to feel her family magic. The rush of power was intoxicating. So was the feeling of warmth that spread in her body every time the magic hummed. This is what the dark lords and light lords desired. That power was something they could never have. Family magic was a blessing and not everyone was worthy.

 

A call from her mother startled her from her studies. Sighing, she got up and went to the living room where her parents waited for her. She waited dutifully for the stairs to align themselves to the path she wanted to use. Dutifully, she knocked on the door and waited for her parents to grant her entry. 

 

“Daughter.” Her mother smiled when she dipped in a low curtsey, her eyes lowered and her head titled. Looking around, she saw her father sitting in one of the chairs while sipping fire-whisky. His face was paler than usual. Her mother looked tense as well.

 

“Sit, daughter.” Her mother asked gently while she took a seat beside her father. Her mother’s hands were shaking, she noted carefully.  _Something must have happened for her mother to be scared._ Sophia Greengrass, her mother, was one of the Unspeakables. There was not much that scared her.

 

“Daphne, you are in Harry Potter’s year, are you not?” Her mother started slowly. She wanted to groan at the mention of that disappointment but her upbringing stopped her. She was getting irritated at the constant stream of questions for her younger sister Astoria. Her sister had been on cloud nine ever since she got a letter from the famous ‘boy-who-lived’.

 

She nodded carefully, wondering what her mother wanted to know about the famous boy. “What can you tell me about him?” Her mother asked.

 

She would have chosen her words carefully if she wasn’t hurt by the loss of the house cup that year. She, like many of her classmates, gave her best to collect those points and she was very disappointed when Gryffindor won the house cup because Dumbledore favoured the golden boy.

 

“Harry Potter is nothing more than a disappointment to his lineage and magical heritage.” She elaborated when her mother raised an amused eyebrow. “It is true. That boy dresses in rags while committing faux-pas after faux-pas. He is friends with those blood traitors and completely ignores allies of his family.”

 

She took a deep breath to continue her rant but stopped when she heard a portrait of her ancestor roaring in laughter. “A Potter not committing social faux-pas, now that would be a sight.” The painting chortled in apparent amusement.

 

“Nevermind, Honey. You were saying…” Her mother urged her to continue. And so, she did, though she understood that most of her frustration came from the apparent loss of the house cup, it wasn’t as if the boy didn’t make enemies in her house.

 

“He has involved himself in the blood feud between the Malfoys and Weasleys plenty of times now. Hogwarts changed its rules for him by allowing him to join the quidditch team in the first year. He keeps the company of blood traitors and muggle-born witches while keeping at a arms distance from traditional families.” 

 

“He doesn’t talk about rituals and old alliances and magic yet he is apparently happy to celebrate muggle festivals. Doesn’t he know how important wizarding festivals are to an old family like his?” She shook her head while thinking about the boy who was disappointing all the traditional families.

 

“You would think that he is the poster boy for muggle-born witches and wizards. And this is after Dumbledore informed the magical population that he was going to take care of his magical education. Why, it's almost like he is spitting on our traditions while promoting the muggle versions of them.” She frowned in distaste.

 

“The poster boy of Light who is hell-bent on insulting his allies and as many traditional families as he possibly can.” She paused in her tirade and blushed when she saw her mother’s amused face. Her father chuckled quietly beside her.

 

“So, you do not like the Potter heir much, do you?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled in amusement. She did her best to stare at her hands and denied answering. Of course, she didn’t like the boy who insulted her traditions and her way of life every time he opened his mouth. 

 

“It doesn’t matter.” She stared at her mother as she spoke, wondering what it was all about. “I think you have judged him too early, dear. Potter’s were never sticklers for etiquette but they followed the traditions religiously. Keep an eye on him, honey, and he might as well surprise you.”

 

Confused, she asked her mother for more information but was waved away. She left in a huff when she was dismissed.  _What is it with everyone considering Potter to be the magic’s gift?_ She sighed and took a calming breath.

 

Her mother wouldn’t have bothered asking for more information if he was not important. And that is what she was lacking. Slytherins did not act on assumptions. Something was going on with the Potter boy and she wanted to find out what. Well, she was going to keep an eye on the boy this year.

 

She would watch and decide if the boy was worth the attention he received. She hoped her time wasn’t wasted. She would be most displeased if she didn’t find anything interesting with the boy. 

 

She huffed and ran to her room when she heard the voice of her sister calling her name. She didn’t want to waste another hour trying to get it into her sister’s head that Potter didn’t have a pet dragon.

 

**HpLcp**

 

 


End file.
